


pretty

by weepies



Category: IT (2017)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, eddie wears skirts, richie loves it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-17
Updated: 2017-10-17
Packaged: 2019-01-18 12:07:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12387750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weepies/pseuds/weepies
Summary: Suddenly there was a hand on Eddie’s shoulder. Richie stepped into Eddie’s peripheral vision with a loose, sappy grin. In his hand he held Eddie’s pink skirt, and Eddie was left wondering how Richie knew that was his favorite one, or if he even knew at all. Maybe Eddie was just overthinking it. His heart was beating so fast, his mouth dry. He felt faint. Why wasn’t Richie saying anything?“Well,” Richie said, still smiling. “You gonna model them for me or what?”





	pretty

**Author's Note:**

> MY FAV HC EVER  
> ps listen to pretty girl by clairo

They were just for fun. Pure, simple, childish fun—at least, that’s what Eddie told himself. Skirts were girl clothes, so there was  _no_  reason Eddie should enjoy them other than as a joke… the four skirts in his closet were a joke. A joke that made Eddie feel pretty. A joke nobody would ever find out about.

Or a joke nobody was  _supposed_  to find out about.

It had been a mistake—a dumb mistake that had completely gone over his head. Richie was over that day. The two were talking (more like bickering) when Richie declared his desire to play Candyland.

“But I fucking suck at that game, Rich,” Eddie had whined, tugging on Richie’s shirt, pleading. “Let’s play Monopoly instead. It goes for longer, anyways.”

“No way, Eds! I’m gonna make Candyland my bitch.” Then Richie had given Eddie his usual dumb, toothy grin. “It’s not my fault you’re a lousy player.”

Eddie groaned and stayed put as Richie shuffled to his feet. It was when Richie approached Eddie’s closet door that Eddie finally remembered.

“Richie,  _wait!_ ” But it was too late. The door was pulled open. Richie was standing in front of Eddie’s open closet, Candyland on his mind but his eyes on the four skirts Eddie had been so secretive about.

It was quiet.

Richie had seen Eddie’s skirts hanging up in his closet. Clenching his hands into fists and turning away from Richie, Eddie silently prepared himself for the mockery that was to come.

Why was it so quiet?

_Oh my God I’m gonna have a fucking asthma attack if he doesn’t say something why isn’t he saying anything where the_ **_fuck_ ** _is my aspirator I’m gonna—_

Suddenly there was a hand on Eddie’s shoulder. Richie stepped into Eddie’s peripheral vision with a loose, sappy grin. In his hand he held Eddie’s pink skirt, and Eddie was left wondering how Richie knew that was his favorite one, or if he even knew at all. Maybe Eddie was just overthinking it. His heart was beating so fast, his mouth dry. He felt faint. Why wasn’t Richie saying anything?

“Well,” Richie said, still smiling. “You gonna model them for me or what?”

Now Eddie  _really_  thought he might faint. “Wha-what?” He asked, and he felt a little stupid for asking, as if he  _wanted_ Richie to say it again. If Richie said it again Eddie really might just pass out on his bedroom floor.

“Well you don’t have them for no reason,” Richie concluded. “So try ‘em on, pip pip and tallyho!” Richie was doing one of his Voices again, Eddie’s least favorite, but it lightened the mood so Eddie couldn’t find it in himself to mind.

Richie was still holding out the skirt for Eddie to take, but the smaller boy was so struck by nerves he couldn’t move his hand. Richie dropped it in Eddie’s lap and went over to sit on his bed, looking at Eddie expectantly. “What?” Richie asked, back to his regular speaking voice now. “You gonna keep a guy waiting?”

Eddie was rising to his feet without even realizing it. He hoped he wasn’t blushing. “Are you gonna look at me the whole time?” Eddie asked.

“Not if you don’t want me to,” Richie said, a teasing tone in his suggestive words. Eddie knew it was a joke, but that didn’t mean his palms weren’t sweaty. Thankfully, Richie turned around and Eddie quickly changed out of his short shorts and into his pink skirt. When he was done dressing, he wiped his clammy palms off onto his legs and cleared his throat.

Finally he felt like he could speak. “Hey, trashmouth,” Eddie said, voice quivering maybe a little too much. “You can look now.”

And look Richie did. “Wow,” Richie said without thinking.

Now Eddie just knew he was blushing. There was no way he would ever stop blushing, not after Richie looking at him like  _that_ , not after a soft, content, “ _wow”_  left Richie’s loud mouth.

Eddie’s hands instinctively clutched his pink skirt.

_I need my fucking aspirator—_

“Wowowowowowowow,” Richie said breathlessly.

_I need to kiss him._

And as if Richie could read Eddie’s mind, he stood up and walked over to Eddie. Eddie imagined he must’ve looked foolishly tiny, standing in a pink skirt in the middle of his boyish bedroom.

Richie stood in front of Eddie, unsure of where to look or put his hands so he just kept a steady gaze on Eddie’s eyes and kept his hands down by his sides. Despite Richie’s endless bragging, he’d never kissed somebody, let alone somebody he adored so much. Eddie was his first (and hopefully his only).  

Richie kissed Eddie, and Eddie let himself be kissed. Richie’s glasses were in the way, smushed between both their faces and definitely uncomfortable, but neither boy could find it in them to pull away to remove them.

There was so little happening but it still felt like so much—Eddie was lightheaded again, but somehow he seemed lightheaded in the best way possible. Lightheaded like he was in a dream, or on cloud nine—but it was just Richie. Kissing Richie Tozier felt just like that.

Raising a hand to Richie’s cheek, Eddie felt more like himself. Being with Richie was one thing, but kissing Richie felt like home.


End file.
